Celinda smiled sympathetically. “For a very good reason.”
“The lights were off, of course, so I couldn’t see their faces very clearly,” Betty explained. “The one who held the gun on me wore a cap pulled down very low over his eyes. He was rather twitchy. I remember being terrified that he would pull the trigger by accident.”
“What about the other man?” Davis asked.
Betty pursed her lips. “Tall, but not as tall as the twitchy guy. From what I could tell he was well-built. Very fit and trim. Excellent shoulders. I remember wondering if burglars worked out in fitness clubs.”
“Do you recall anything at all about his features?” Celinda asked.
Betty shook her head. “I’m afraid not. As I said, it was quite dark in here.”
“Anything else about him strike you as distinctive?” Davis said.
Betty hesitated. “Well, there was his voice.”
“What about it?” Celinda asked.
Betty’s forehead crinkled. “He didn’t have a burglar’s voice, although I must admit I’ve never spoken with a burglar before.”
Celinda leaned forward across the counter a little. “What sort of voice did he have?”
“Cultured. Well-bred. Forceful.” Betty thought for a few seconds. “Maybe authoritative is the right word. Like a doctor or a professor. He was obviously a well-educated man. He just didn’t sound like a burglar, if you see what I mean.”
“I understand,” Celinda said.
Betty shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t know why I thought the entire incident was a dream and why I never called the police. It’s…worrisome.”
Celinda dropped the relic back into the cookie jar and replaced the lid. The implications of what Betty had seen and heard made the adrenaline rush through her veins. She knew that Davis had to be thinking the same thing.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Furnell,” she said. “You’re not going senile. I think that burglar with the well-educated, professorial voice used a form of psychic hypnosis on you to make you think that everything you saw and heard that night was a dream.”
“Hypnosis.” Betty’s eyes widened. “Good heavens.”
“He reinforced the hypnotic suggestion by doing something to your psi senses that induced a headache every time you tried to recall what really happened.”
“I suppose that would explain it,” Betty said slowly. “But how could he hypnotize me so quickly in the dark?”
“Obviously, he has some sort of extremely powerful psi talent,” Celinda said.
Betty looked at Davis, baffled. “I understand now why I didn’t call the police. But why didn’t you call them when you got home?”
Davis assumed his darkly mysterious air. “Because this is Guild business, Mrs. Furnell.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Betty looked thrilled. “You don’t say. How exciting. You’re with the Guild, then?”
“I’m working for Mercer Wyatt,” Davis said.
Betty was satisfied now. “Expect the Guild can handle a couple of burglars.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Davis said.
“I’d better be off, in that case.” Betty got to her feet. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do.” She smiled at Celinda. “Thank you so much for that meditation treatment. I feel ever so much better now.”
“What about your milk?” Celinda asked.
“Oh, that’s all right, dear. I’ll pick up some at the store this afternoon.”
Davis had the phone in his hand when Celinda returned from seeing Betty out the door.
“You realize what this means?” he asked her while he rezzed the number.
“Yes,” she said. “There’s a second ruby amber relic, and the man with the professorial voice not only has it, he’s got the talent required to activate it.”
“A talent like yours.”
Chapter 30
THE DOORBELL SOUNDED LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER. Araminta and Max suddenly seemed quite excited. They both bounced a couple of times and then quickly scampered down from the refrigerator.
“I’ll get it,” Davis said. He rose from the counter stool and went into the front hall.
Araminta and Max bobbed enthusiastically at his heels.
Celinda poured herself another cup of coffee and prepared for the showdown with Mercer Wyatt. She’d heard enough of Davis’s side of the phone conversation to know that the Guild boss was not a happy camper.
She listened to Davis greet the newcomer. To her amazement he sounded like he was welcoming an old friend.
“So, Wyatt sent you to do the dirty work,” Davis said. “Come on in.”
Evidently it was not Wyatt who had come to lay down Guild law. According to the press, he and his wife had a mansion on Ruin View Drive. Maybe slumming in this part of town was beneath a man of his exalted station.
Then she heard a woman’s voice, warm and vivacious.
“Hello, Davis. Good to see you again. How are you, Max? And who’s this?”
“That’s Araminta,” Davis said. “She lives here.”
“I hear you’ve got a problem on your hands,” a man said, sounding a little amused.
“Are you all right, Davis?” The woman was concerned.
“I’m fine,” Davis assured her. “But the case has gone to green hell.”
“Got that impression,” the man said. “What’s going on? When he called, Wyatt told me this was supposed to be a simple retrieval operation.”
“Things got complicated,” Davis said. “Come on into the kitchen and have some coffee. There’s someone you need to meet.”
Celinda waited for them behind the counter, instinctively seeking a barricade between herself and the sure-to-be-intimidating representatives of the Guild.
The dark-haired man with the specter-cat eyes and the redheaded woman who accompanied him were not at all what she had expected. The vibes of both were powerful. The man could be ruthless, she thought, but never cruel. He did not look like a typical hunter. His hair was cut short, and he wasn’t dressed in khaki and leather. Instead, he wore a stylish, expensively tailored mix of trousers, jacket, and open-collared shirt. The face of his watch was amber. He could have passed for a pricey business consultant.
The woman had smart, insightful eyes. She wore a conservative, skirted suit and heels. There was something about her that made Celinda think she might have an academic background.
Most reassuring of all was the dust bunny the couple had brought with them. He sported a small yellow bow on top of his head. Max and Araminta had already taken charge of him, leading him straight to the cookie jar on the counter.
“Celinda, this is Lydia and Emmett London,” Davis said. “Emmett’s an old friend of mine. Lydia and Emmett, Celinda Ingram. The bunny with the yellow bow on his head is Fuzz.”
There was a polite round of greetings. Celinda poured coffee for Lydia and Emmett, and they sat down in the living room.
“All right,” Emmett said, looking at Davis, “I’ve got Wyatt’s version of events. Give me the rest of the story.”
Davis told them everything in short, terse sentences. When he was finished, Emmett contemplated the cookie jar.
“You definitely picked an innovative hiding place,” he said neutrally.
“My theory is that if anyone tries to take the relic out of that cookie jar, Araminta will know about it,” Celinda explained. “For some reason she wants me to have it.”
Lydia nodded thoughtfully. “Dust bunnies clearly have some psychic abilities. My guess is she senses that you can resonate with the relic and, therefore, it ought to belong to you. Probably thinks it’s a toy of some kind.”
“That’s what I concluded,” Celinda agreed.
Lydia raised her coffee cup and looked at Celinda over the rim. There was a wealth of understanding in her expression. “I don’t blame you one bit for not wanting to turn that relic over to the Guild.”
Davis and Emmett exchanged grim looks. Celinda and Lydia ignored them.
“The thing is,” Celinda said, relieved now that she had a supporter, “I think the relic has enormous potential as a medical device for the treatment of psi trauma and, perhaps, other kinds of psychic and psychiatric disorders as well. The Guild isn’t exactly into high-tech medical research.”